Shade
by Laurel Kingsley
Summary: There is a suspicious American exchange student, Harry is acting odd, Hermione is drifting off in class, and Ron trips over Mrs. Norris! Humour, Romance, Dramaishness, all that good stuff. Also, Why has Voldemort been so quiet?
1. Another Day

_Disclaimer: Harry & Company doesn't belong to me in any way or form. I am simply borrowing them for a bit to supply my need to escape from reality… And it's not worth suing me anyway, as I only have two bucks._ Chapter One -- Another Day 

They say that you reach a point in your life when everything is right. It's the pinnacle, when the whole lot that is your life just rolls smoothly. And you have everything going for you. Of course, it all comes crashing down right afterwards and then you're miserable for weeks, or months. And then something positively fantastic happens, or you reach all the little boring bits when it's not good or bad. So on and so forth on the roller coaster of life.

Ronald Weasley was not at that pinnacle. Harry was peacefully sleeping in his bed (for once), but Ron couldn't sleep, he was having yet another quarrel with Hermione, he was behind is all his classes, he had a Potions essay due in approximately seven hours, and the cherry on top: it was raining. Basically, the sullen redhead curled up in a chair in the Gryffindor common room felt like shit. He was attempting to write his Potions essay, but without Hermione to help him plus his lack of sleep, crushed all hope. He silently wished Hermione would come down and save him. But then there was the fact that they were fighting. Damn! Why did they have to be fighting now? Why not tomorrow when it might be mildly entertaining? As thoughts swirled in his head he drifted into sleep.

When Ron saw Hermione come down the stairs his heart leapt into his throat. On the verge of apologizing, Ron went down on bended knee. Hermione sidled up to him, smiled and announced, "I forgive you." Ron leapt up and hugged her. Hermione pulled away and kissed him passionately. _Yeah,_ was the only thought going through Ron's head, until she suddenly turned into Snape. Ron shrieked, and the Hermione-Snape grinned maliciously and cackled, throwing it's head back.

"Ron! Ron! Wake up!" a familiar voice echoed in his head and dissolved the peculiar nightmare.

"Huh? Wha?" Ron was jerked out of sleep and greeted by Harry's stern gaze.

"You scream like a girl, mate," Harry pointed out; a mocking grin broke through his look of concern.

" Oh, bug off," Ron glared as he threw a cushion at Harry.

"Hello Harry," Hermione interrupted. She walked off without even a glance at Ron. Ron shuddered, remembering his dream.

"What you two arguing about now?" Harry sighed.

"You know what?" Ron furrowed his brow quizzically, "I can't even remember now."

Harry heaved another sigh, and scurried to breakfast. Before Ron caught up with him, he snatched his essay, noticing a neat stack of notes with a message attached. It read 'To Ron.'

At breakfast, instead of his usual scarfing down food routine, Ron pondered. That dream had been bizarre: Hermione, kissing him? That was weird. He hadn't liked that weird over-assertive dream-Hermione. The real Hermione was too much already. He didn't need one in his dreams. Why did he dream about her anyway? It wasn't that he loved her, of course not. He couldn't even begin to think of her as more that a friend. Right? Ugh, this thinking was hurting Ron's brain. The creepy part was when Snape was there. _Must've been because of the essay_, the little voice in his head remarked suggestively. Shit! The essay! Ron searched through his stuff and found his paper, as well the mysterious notes. Taking out a quill, Ron began his essay with the help of the notes. He thanked whatever wonderful, fantastic person had given them to him. And Hermione watched with a strange look on her face.

**Hey,**

**By the way this story has chapters. Um… I will continue Golden Zephyr for those who are wondering. I will make it my duty this fic is not _all_ mushy fluff. There should be mystery or drama or something too. And PLEASE! REVIEW! I will be so grateful. And if you want I'll read and review your story to return the favor. I'd again like to thank EWlookalike, the only person to ever review me! Yeah, so please R&R, constructive criticism and all that.**

**Love, Peace, & All that Jazz,**

Laurel Kingsley 

**P.S. And for those curious, that's not my real name. So don't go, "Oh my god! Must be the Laurel Kingsley in my English class!" and then go talk to her. The poor girl will have no idea what you're talking about.**


	2. Funny Feeling

**A/N: After months and months of not righting fanfiction, I'm back! I am starting up again with Shade. As I have no free time (that's why I wasn't writing), don't expect me to be able to update _all the time_. I hate homework. Anyway, I am in the process of writing Chapter Two, the beginning of which had been lying lonely in my "Writing" folder. I took pity on the poor thing. Golden Zephyr is in the need of some character development so that's on hold for a spell. Anyway, I apologise for being evil and not writing, and it makes me feel good to know that people actually cared (thnx reviewers!) Well, I must return to my writing.**

**Love, Peace, & All That Jazz,**

Laurel Kingsley 

_**Disclaimer: **Actually, I am J.K. Rowling. I'm just spending my spare time writing fanfiction while I should be working on the 7th book. Just kidding to the idiots who believed me. And I'm sorry I called you an idiot. It wasn't me…it was…him! Over there points to imaginary person only she can see! Ha ha. Anyway, just in case you didn't notice, Harry Potter isn't my property, nor is he my devoted sex slave (I wish…not really by the way). I'll shut up now._

_Yes! The people love me! I love reviews! I shall ask for some for Christmas. "Dear Santa, I'd like some reviews for Christmas." Anyway… thank you to reviewers! I love you! And I shall thank you publicly! (That Kingsley is getting cocky now…see what reviews do to her? She's hooked now, and it's all your fault.)_

_**Everhart13: **thank you! See, I'm updating!_

_**Blue Rose of The Forgotten: **I love your pen name! So cool. Weird dream… I wish my dreams were that exciting. The most interesting dream I've had lately was that I woke up and ate a piece of toast. Just gives you the shivers doesn't it sarcasm ?_

_**summerxkiss2: **thank you! And thanks for reviewing Golden Zephyr too!_

_**bloomsgurl922: **thank you! I'm honored that you added it to your faves. Seriously._

_Onward!_

Chapter2--Funny Feeling 

"Ron! Wake up! Ro-on!" an agitated, but slightly warm voice cut through the youngest Weasley boy's latest fantasy. He had been having a lovely dream in which the Chudley Canons were on their knees begging him to join their team, after their keeper had suffered a tragic freak "accident." And now, some dung-head was interrupting it with her harsh yelling. He grunted. Their captain was weeping now, as dream-Ron held an expression of skeptical contemplation and said, "I dunno if the Canons are _good enough_ for the great _Ron Weasley_, I'll have to think abou–"

"For god's sake Ron! Wake up! You're going to be late for breakfast!" Hermione shouted. She shook him mercilessly.

Ron's eyes burst open. He had fallen asleep on his potions essay, a spot of drool was on his conclusion, blurring the word _and_. The fire in the common room had long since been burnt down to the occasional scorching ember that skipped among the logs. Ron stared at the fireplace as it swam in and out focus, attempting to wake up. He then glanced up to see Hermione hanging over him ominously, her eyes level with his. He shrank away from her scolding gaze.

"Mornin' 'Mione," He yawned groggily. She continued to stare at him as her gaze turned more and more sour. "Wha'? Wassamatter?" Ron's English was slowly degrading. He looked over at her slender arm and the pearly skin that was peaking through. Then he noticed that her left hand and its fingers like a pianist were still clutching his right shoulder. His ears turned an abysmal shade of scarlet as he turned his mop of red hair away. Hermione took no notice.

"Wassamatter?'" She mocked, "Honestly Ron," she stalked off, muttering things that sounded suspiciously insulting under her breath. Ron sighed, got up (still wearing his crumpled robes from yesterday), and lurched down to breakfast.

ooo

Ron was one of the last down to breakfast and he slid in between Harry and Neville. When he passed her by, Hermione had blocked the available seat next to her. And once again Ron sighed. Fred and George had _never_ had this trouble with girls. They were funny and charismatic; Ron had never known any woman to stay angry with them for extended periods of time. Except perhaps his mum and Hermione, but they were different. His ginger hair dangled in front of his eyes as he glowered at his breakfast, staring fixedly at a speck of pepper on his hash browns.

"Ron, hello-o… Ron!" A voice snapped. Ron awoke from his trance, pushed his eggs around with his fork, and sighed. He had been doing a lot of that today, sighing that is.

"Ron." A muscled fist socked his shoulder. Ron glanced up and saw Harry staring quizzically at him. " What up, mate? Is this about Hermi–" The rest of the sentence became muffled by Ron's hand.

"She's…sitting…right…there!" Ron hissed, his eyes glinting as he looked around suspiciously."

"Well, 'Mad-Eye Moody,' she can't hear me." Harry grinned. Ron's face twisted into something that resembled a smile.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Ron barked with mock seriousness, doing a flawless interpretation of Moody's Imposter in their Fourth Year. The people around them jumped back, startled, but soon erupted in laughter.

ooo

The day passed by at a strange pace. Charms flashed by at a speed comparable to Hermione running to make it on time that day. The bushy haired wonder was speaking to Ron again, but she seemed oddly distant. As usual, History of Magic inched by at an incredibly sluggish rate. Harry remarked to Ron, as they flicked bits of parchment into Elana Shepard's puffy locks, that if time had been racing with a snail, the snail would have won hands down. Even Hermione had lost track of monotonous lecture when Professor Binns had reached a particularly dull part discussing Sir Rupert Finkle, a dreadful necromancer with frighteningly long nose hairs. She gazed longingly out of the window, golden sunlight dying her hair a brilliant hue of gold, lost in thought. Ron stole inquisitive glances at her eyes, amber in the sunlight, as her lids grew steadily heavier and heavier, weighed down by long lashes and daydreams.

She was outside in the balmy autumn air that danced on her fair, freckled skin and gently tousled her golden, chestnut mane. The immense beech tree she leaned against let in dappled sunlight as she closed her eyes and was suddenly in a damp, dingy hallway. The Oriental rug was rough against her bare feet, and she could see an immense gilded mirror out of the corner of her eye. She heard strained breathing behind her and her heart slammed in her chest for some strange reason. There was something to fear here, but the girl didn't know what. There was a mounting urge to gaze into the gilded mirror, soon it was impossible to resist. Turning slowly she gasped and loosened the tight grip she had on the lily with petals like clean white plaster in her hand. Her eyes burst open and she sat up rapidly, her cheeks flushed. Her breath was heavy and icy cold. There was a strange fluttering in her heart. Ron Weasley was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his slender, freckled face. Their gazes connected for a moment and Ron's clear, blue eyes snapped away, Hermione's still lingering. She stuffed the curious dream into the closet of discarded thoughts in the depths of her mind. She just wished the one boy that was different had kept her gaze.

_**A/N: **Well, I know that was a short one. I hate short chapters. I would write more but that was the best place for me to stop at to prove I _am _writing. Just one extra thanks to **Strider405** who is an awesome friend and writer (if only she would hurry up and post!), and needs a spell check. Not really. Thank you for reviewing. Well, I will definitely post soon because…… It's a five-day weekend! Woohoo! Except I have loads of homework to do. Like four paintings, an essay and MORE! Not that you care. Anyway, as always **review**! And make sure I'm a good girl and update regularly! And 10 brownie points to whoever can guess what country I live in! (**Strider405** does not count)_

_Laters,_

_**L. Kingsley**_


	3. Oh No! Not Another OC!

_**Disclaimer/AN**: yawnToo tired to write a witty comment. You all know by now that its all JKR's by now. Thanks to **Marie Fay **from Germany. I've always wanted to go there. I love traveling. Hugs to you for reviewing. Anyway. On with the chappie._

Chapitre Trois (Kapitel Drei) Oh No! Not Another OC! 

Harry knew something was up the second Hermione declined a study session at the library.

"No thanks Harry, maybe another day." She brushed him off and left the common room with a preoccupied expression on her face.

She was gone for breakfast and Ron looked crestfallen. He scooted his eggs around with his fork, a recent morning routine at this point. Dumbledore interrupted the meal, surprising everyone by clearing his throat as he began to make an announcement. Everyone cringed at the flawless imitation of Umbridge, and Dumbledore gave a grim smile.

**A/N: For this fic, lets assume that book 6 didn't happen, 'kay? 'Cuz I started writing it before then. Sorry 'bout that.**

"I would like to introduce you all to our new student who has recently transferred to Hogwarts from Imprimis Academy of Magical Education in San Francisco. This is a very rare occasion, but under the circumstances we gladly welcome her to Hogwarts. She has recently been privately sorted into Gryffindor. Let's give Celia Ragazzo a warm welcome."

The hushed congregation gave a polite applause whilst muttering curiously amongst themselves.

"Is that even _allowed_?" Lisa Turpin questioned her fellow Ravenclaws suspiciously.

"Boy am I glad she wasn't sorted into Hufflepuff. We don't know anything about her background do we?" Owen Cauldwell remarked smartly to Eleanor Branstone.

At the Slytherin table Malcolm Baddock was snidely saying to Graham Pritchard how he bet that this American person was probably a mudblood.

It seemed hardly the "warm welcome" that Dumbledore had hoped for. The muttering halted when the new student began to walk towards her new house table.

Her crisp new robes clung to her slender build and her sleek, shiny raven hair was swept back by a matching velvet headband, revealing a long, freckled face that would have looked wolfish on anyone else. Her almond eyes shone the palest blue framed by swooping, ebony lashes. Her lips were full and pale; her nose was like a kiddie ski-slope, gentle and petite. Her hand reached up to scratch it showing long, thin fingers whose nails were painted forest green. To say the least, the male population of Hogwarts was drooling. Even Snape's eyes popped out a bit. The stranger settled comfortably in between Seamus and Harry, her cheeks not even showing a trace of pink. Rather, she flashed dazzling teeth and Seamus nearly spat his pumpkin juice on himself. Even Harry blushed a little. Ron sneaked by with a faint look of admiration and continued his egg-scooting ritual.

The rest of the meal was full of talk and laughter as the male Gryffindors scrambled to get to know the new student. She spent most of her time chatting with Harry, laughing her bubbly chuckle, occasionally accompanied by Seamus's side comments. Harry was grinned inwardly when strange girl didn't blush and fumble around him, or shriek, "Oh my god! You're _Harry Potter_!" in his ear.

ooo

"I don't like her. I don't like her one bit." Ginny Weasley muttered malevolently as she moved her pawn forward. It was only out of shear boredom or distress that she played chess with her brother.

"Are you sure you're not simply jealous? I mean her being so cozy with Harry and all." Ron replied sagely. His bishop viciously kicked her pawn off the board. It curled up and sulked with the rest of her disheveled pieces.

"Don't be silly, Ronald. You must admit there is something…_eerie_ about her, though." Her ginger brow crinkled as she planned her next move.

"Yes. But I'm not being silly. Why else would you have come to play chess with me?" Ron grinned slyly.

"Who the hell are you and what in Azkaban have you done with my brother?" Ginny jumped up and her gaze darted around suspiciously. It was a comical sight and Ron was soon rolling on the floor and crying tears of mirth.

"It wasn't _that_ funny, you dolt. Checkmate." Ginny Weasley had beaten her own brother at chess, which was not only Ron's forte, it was his element. The smug redhead skipped off to recount the tale of her triumph, jovially humming snatches of a mutated combination of "Weasley Is Our King" and "I'll Be Home For Christmas."

ooo

Celia lay awake in a four-poster bed that was, until recently, unoccupied. The other girls' chattering had long died down and they were fast asleep. Celia flipped a braid over her shoulder, gracefully stumbled over to the dorm window **A/N: Who knew it was possible?** and creaked it open, letting in the chilly air. She let the autumn breeze lick her skin and snatched a frail paper bird from the air. Hustling it inside, the raven-haired girl snapped the sketchy window shut and smiled hungrily at the paper bird. _He was right to use this, it truly is the safest way to send messages_, she thought, beginning to stroke the bird. The crisp white paper smelled of muggles, peppermint, and things to aspire for. It started to glow and hum, soft and low. Gazing intently, Celia uncovered its tale.

**A/N: **_Yes. Another short chapter. A pathetic cliffie. And an original character. What will become of poor Miss Kingsley. I hope my O.C. isn't loathed by all. She will come in handy, I promise! Okay, Über brownie points to anyone who guesses what country I'm from (actually guess people!) (Thank you **Angry Neko-San **for guessing and for your review). Anyway. Please review. I appreciate it. After all, I did procrastinate on my homework doing this just for you. Guilt-Trip. Anyone who reviews this chappie will be deemed by me "double-cool with knobs" (v. v. cool!). I will try to write more next time, I wanted to get this up ASAP. Okie dokie then._

_Love, Peace, & All That Jazz,_

Miss Kingsley 

**_P.S. PLEASE tell me any of you suggestions, errors or typos you see, EVERYTHING. I didn't have a chance to read over or edit this chapter, so I'd really appreciate it.  Thanks._**


	4. Lonely Eyes And Skin Like Pearl

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter isn't mine and I'll never own him/it or be JKR no matter how many times I attempt to make a Polyjuice Potion.

_**A/N: **Okay, I'll try to make this chappie longer and such. As I said before READ AND REVIEW! I can't write if you don't review. Mille grazie (a thousand thanks in Italian) to **Mary Fay **for reviewing again! I think you might have been confused by the fact I combined an Author's Note (formerly labeled as Ch.2) with Chapter 2 (formerly labeled as Ch.3). Ya, its confusing. Anyway. Thanks to **October Tuscany** for reviewing as well (sry I forgot to thank you! My email was being confusing! Bad Laurel!). Anyway, please review! I need reviews to keep up my writing (its motivation!)._ **Tell me all your ideas, corrections, typos, questions, feedback, predictions, thoughts, EVERYTHING (regarding the story)!**_ I want to make this story as awesome as possible. I am now enabling my email on the site, but all you need to do is push the little button at the bottom of the page! Aargh! Now I'm nagging and being annoying! Sorry. Well enough ranting from me. Here's your story!_

**Chapter Four–**Lonely Eyes And Skin Like Pearl

Time passed like the constant, steady scritching and scratching of quills during exam time. Ron found Hermione furious with him once again, and he couldn't even recall what their first fight was about. But this time he knew.

Ever since that game of chess with Ginny, Ron had been thinking about the Ragazzo girl. She seemed all right, friendly enough. She had taken a shine to Harry, which Ron thought would be good for him. Harry needed something light and fresh in his life. And that girl seemed to be just the thing. But at the same time, Ron always felt uneasy around her. He had assumed, at first, that this churning in his stomach was just the lovebug that had sunk its fangs into every heterosexual male in the school. But after a few days, he knew it was not. _Love, is something different_, the voice in his head peeped,_ and you know that_. Ron was sure there was something off about the striking girl with heavenly eyes. He had said so to Hermione. And well, look what happened.

**:FLASHBACK: (A/N: Oh No! Help! Not a Flashback!)**

Scene: The empty Gryffindor Commonroom. Hermione Granger sitting on a pouf by the fire. She is reading her Charms Textbook. She is on Chapter 76, Section 13.

(Enter Ronald Weasley, looking thoughtful. This means trouble.)

Ron: _(suspiciously casual)_'Lo Hermione. Whatcha up to?

Hermione: _(looks up from her reading and raises her eyebrows) _Reading.

Ron: _(flushes and looks bashful)_ Of course. May I sit down?

Hermione: Sure. _(continues reading)_

Ron: _(sits down particularly close to Hermione, and is at a loss for words)_ So… nice weather?

Hermione: _(looking agitated, rolls her eyes)_ Get to it Ron. I haven't all day. What is it, do you want to copy my Transfiguration essay?

Ron: _(looking ticked off, says sharply)_ No. I'll have you know I've already done it. _(settles down and relaxes) (in an attempt at being subtle) _ So… what do you think about that Ragazzo girl?

Hermione: _(snarling)_ Bit with the lovebug, are we? Gee, it's just like fourth year all over again. Except Celia's name doesn't rhyme.

Ron: _(taken aback) _No, no, _no_! You have it all wrong! I am not attracted to her at all! It's just that she seems odd. Something about her is…_eerie_. _(quietly)_ She's really not my type at all, you know.

Hermione:_ (abashed) _Oh.

Ron: S'all right. What do you think? Is it just me? You know Ginny detected something off too… bad vibes, I say… _(trailing off)_

Hermione: _(with new vigor)_ You really should stop attacking the poor girl. Just because she's new and different, and you have a case of xenophobia, doesn't mean she's "off!" Besides, Ginny's just jealous. I don't know why, I thought she was off with what's-his-name Cauldwell, that Hufflepuff.

Ron: _(shocked)_ What! He's TWO years younger than her! Is that good? Or is it bad? I don't know! (baffled at this point)

Hermione: _(flushing with frustration)_ We're getting off topic! What I'm trying to say is that there does not have to be a certain _je ne sais quoi_ about every gorgeous, foreign girl with an accent! This is something good for Harry, something he needs!

Ron: _(frustrated, his ego ruffled) _Yes, that's true, I was thinking the same thing. It's just, we don't know _anything_ about her. And there _is_ something off about her. I am just as worried about Harry as you are.

Hermione: _(cold, steely)_ Ron. For once, don't be so close-minded. I don't know whether you don't like her accent, or if you're jealous. But do not think I am not worried for Harry. Do not make this into something it is not. And for god's sake, Ron, _think_ before you utter any more bizarre fallacies.

(Exit Hermione)

_(Pan in on Ron, all alone, disheveled hair and all.)_

_End Scene._

:END FLASHBACK:

There was no friendly banter among friends. There was no one to really talk to. Hermione ignored his existence. Harry was being chummy with Celia. Ron resorted to hanging out with his little sister, which was always a sad sight to see.

"Is it true you're going with that Cauldwell fellow, then?" Ron asked Ginny conversationally as he peeled the wrapper off of a chocolate frog. _Rubbish, Agrippa again._

"What do you care? And no. That was a stupid rumor that Orla spread about." Ginny was attempting to study, but it was getting very difficult with Ron hovering around, "And she did a bloody good job too, if _you_ know about it" she muttered under her breath so Ron could just barely hear her.

"Nevermind." Ron ignored the latter comment and ran a shaking hand through his red hair. At this point, Hermione walked hurriedly past him with an air of purposeful ignorance so thick it could be cut with a knife. Something in the redheaded boy's chest lurched and his hand slid down his face in frustration.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?"

"Why should I? I have nothing to say to her."

"You're both the same." Ginny sighed, "As proud as a hippogriff and as stubborn as hell." Ron snorted and pretended to read his Charms textbook. He was on Chapter 16, Section 23. Ginny rolled her eyes, a mannerism she received from the Prewett side of her family.

ooo

Harry was baffled. After Cho, he had said, _Harry, no more of this girl business for you_. And here he was flushing a red to rival Ron's because a raven-haired girl had her delicate arm, with skin as pale pink and smooth as pearl, draped around his. Her head lay on his shoulder as if it naturally fit there, and had sat there all along. Harry was literally frozen and his mind screamed, his face felt scalding. He looked at Celia's gentle sloping script on the notes they were supposed to have been studying. It perfectly matched the handwriting on the billet-doux he had received that sun-drenched morning.

_**A/N: **Okay, I HAD to make that a semi-fill-in chapter. Sorry 'bout the flashback, what'd you think? Was that chapter icky or was it the best you've ever read? What do you think about my O.C. and what role she will play? PLEASE READ AND **REVIEW**. And I quote: "Tell me all your ideas, corrections, typos, questions, feedback, predictions, thoughts, EVERYTHING (regarding the story)!" I will write a longer/better/more interesting chapter next time. Okay Tell Me: **Would you like faster updates, but shorter chapters? Or slower updates, but longer chapters?** Anyway, my English essay awaits me._

_Love and delicious pastries,_

_Laurel Kingsley_

_P.S. "Je ne sais quoi" is literally French for "I don't know what". It means "a quality that cannot be described or named easily."_

_P.P.S. A "billet-doux" is a love letter or note._

_P.P.P.S. Just in case you didn't know._


	5. Talking to Couches

_**Disclaimer: **If you really think its all mine, then you need to go to a blinking mental institution. No offense to people in mental institutions, I love you all._

**Chapter Five–Talking to Couches**

There was an odd tingling sensation on the back of Harry's neck. Something about this revelation made him feel nauseous. He shook the peculiar thoughts out of his head, why should he feel uneasy? Whenever he had time to lie and think like this, he found himself feeling edgy and perturbed. But the moment he fell under her ice–blue eyes… it was like being under the Imperius Spell, except different, more conscious. It was unsettling. He tried to avoid her, but she seemed to be wherever he was. Celia… a name that rolled off the tongue and tasted like heaven–but left an aftertaste like nightshade.

ooo

Ginny Weasley (Ginevra when her mum was irate) peered through her four–poster's curtains, checking her dorm mates sleeping status. When she was satisfied, she tiptoed past their beds, hushed the door open, and crept down the stairs. When she reached the shadowy common room, she peered around and slunk towards the entrance.

"Hold on, where ye goin'?" croaked a low voice that came from one of the couches. _Oh no! Couches are talking to me! Am I going insane? _Ginny looked around frantically and spied a tousled black wig nestled in one of the pillows. _A Wig? _She padded over to the wig and ripped an invisible cloth off of an invisible figure. Soon a green–eyed boy was blinking up at her.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed in a strange combination of a whisper and a roar. The boy continued to blink nervously. _His eyes shimmer when he blinks_, Ginny noticed. Her chewed–down nails ran across the now visible cloth.

"What'd I do? I was only sleeping…" Harry hummed snatches of a Beatles tune. He was half–asleep, the poor soul. "G'night," he muttered unintelligibly as he slumber stole him.

Ginny smiled and sat down next to him. Twirling a few strands of her fiery locks around her finger, she decided the Room of Requirement would have to wait for another day. She settled down next to Harry and drifted off to sleep. A certain four–eyed Gryffindor peeked through his lashes and grinned in his sleep.

**A/N: **Okay. Sorry about the filler chapter. I know I suck. BUT I am putting my foot down. I know it's cruel. I know it's mean. I know I will rot in hell. But NO MORE CHAPTERS until I get AT LEAST FIVE REVIEWS! Five. I think that is a more than reasonable number. I know barely anyone reads this fic, but tell your friends. Tell your split personality. You can say: "OMG! That btch Laurel K. at is all 'review or die'." Whatever. I do feel bad, but I NEED your HELP. As I said before: **"Tell me your ideas, corrections, typos, questions, feedback, predictions, thoughts, EVERYTHING (regarding the story)!"** Please! I just want five. Seven would be nice. But I gotta face reality. So, that's your homework. Review.

Love,

Laurel

P.S. Thanks to **mysteries green fairy** (I hope you got my message in reply),** A. Lynn the Poet **(thanks for your info! You're so sweet!), and **Marie Fay **(you rock), for reviewing. I love you guys, you make my day. Which is nice, I need a day made once in a while.

P.P.S. If anyone really wants me to read and review their story, just ask! I'll be happy to.


	6. Nearly Headless Nick Makes a Pun

**Disclaimer: **Bloody 'Ell! (interpretations from "Meet Me Under The Mistletoe" is a song by Harry and the Potters)

**A/N: **Okay. That's it. I give up. I love writing too much. I got ONE GORGEOUS review. From the fantastic **Marie Fay**. You are awesome! Its people like you who make me want to write. But you know what, all you non-reviewers out there, that's okay. I know I may not review on occasion. A couple of times I have waited for the story to be over, before I reviewed. But I try. So I'm not mad. Nope. In the holiday spirit, here's another chapter. Dedicated to **Marie Fay**! (sorry if it's not very good.)

Chapter 6 

**In Which Nearly Headless Nick Makes a Pun, Hermione Has a Somewhat Civil Conversation with Ron, and Neville Melts.**

Ron woke up to the blinding morning light peering through his curtains. He groaned and rolled off his bed and lay sprawled, tangled in his sheets. Seamus, who had been up and ready for forty minutes, tripped over Ron's knobbly-socked foot on his way out. After pulling on disheveled robes and running a hand through his hair as a substitute for a comb, Ron trudged down to the Great Hall. On the left-hand staircase on the fourth floor, he tripped over Mrs. Norris, swore at her, and banged his head on the round door handle of a dusty wardrobe that had suddenly appeared there. Nearly Headless Nick drifted by, laughing to himself, and remarked, "Quite a 'knob' you have there, Mr. Weasley." He chuckled at his poorly made joke and went about his ghostly business.

"Aw, bugger off," Ron snarled; a goose–sized limp was developing on his head.

**A/N: Okay, about the pun. 'knob', ball-shaped handle, 'nob', a person's head. Ya, it was supposed to be bad and stupid. I tried to think of like the worst pun that no one would get. Oh, and the lump _is_ goose-sized. No eggs.**

Hermione hadn't slept a wink last night. She had had another dream of the flickering hall, and didn't dare coax on more fantasies. After giving in to her curiosity, she researched dreams in the library. More importantly, she researched dream divination. Grudgingly of course, but Hermione shuddered with an unpleasant wave of reminiscence. Trelawney, the old hag, had put stock in this ridiculous stuff. Hermione looked up dreams with 'hallway' or 'mirror' and all she found was:

**Hallways**: To see a hallway in your dream, symbolizes the beginning of a path that you are taking in life or a journey into the unknown and self-exploration. It represents spiritual, emotional, physical, or mental passages in your life. It is indicative of a transitional phase in your life.

**Mirror:** What you see is related to your persona and unconscious. Seeing images through the mirror may be a safe way for you to consider and/or confront material from your unconscious. Mirrors symbolize the imagination and a link between the conscious and unconscious.

**Rug**: To see a rug in your dream, suggests that you are trying to shield yourself from some harsh reality. There may also be something that you are trying to hide. Consider the design and condition of the rug. If it is old and worn, then it suggests that you feel that you are being taken advantage of or stepped on by others.

**Lily**: To see lilies in your dream, symbolizes tranquility, spirituality, peace, and bliss.

**Pursuit**: To dream that someone or something is in pursuit of you, indicates that you are refusing to acknowledge a certain viewpoint or idea.

_According to that_, she thought, _I'm going through a transitional phase, I might see something horrible from my unconscious, I feel like I'm being taken advantage of, I won't acknowledge a viewpoint, yet everything is tranquil_. Slamming the book shut, she shoved it back into the bookcase. In spite, she put it one shelf and five books away from where she found it. Bloody dreams. Bloody dream dictionaries. Maybe she was pulling a Harry, and she had a mental connection to someone. Nah, that's rubbish. _Perhaps it means nothing_, the agitating little voice in the corners of her mind peeped, _except for the 'ignoring a viewpoint' thing. You really shouldn't be so hard on Ron, after all–_

"Shut it!" Hermione raged at the little voice, swatting it away, and still remembering to whisper. She looked at her watch, the nice leather one her father had given her last Christmas, it was nearly ten o'clock! She rushed down to breakfast, her bushy mane flying after her. On the stairs, she tripped on Ron's lump and landed half a foot away from him.

"Hello…" He croaked. He tried to move his arm and only managed a wiggle as a gesture of greeting. Hermione forgot she was pretending to be mad at him.

"Ron," Hermione gathered herself and got up from the smooth marble stair. Then, she spotted the wardrobe. "How did this get here?"

"Dunno… tripped… knob… bad pun…" Ron's eyes flicked to the lump on his head.

"Oh, you poor thing…" she crouched down to Ron, pointed her wand to the lump and whispered "_resarcio._" The limp shrank considerably to the size of a hummingbird.

"Thanks," Ron put a hand to his head and grimaced. Hermione helped him up; he was still a bit wobbly on his feet. A "_mobus_" from Hermione moved the wardrobe out of harm's way, and they wobbled down to breakfast together.

"That was odd, how do you think a wardrobe got there?" Hermione queried.

"Dunno. Peeves?" Ron suggested, rubbing a shaky hand over his wound. He noticed Hermione's hair looked sweet when it was messy like that. There were lines of fatigue in her face; she hadn't gotten any sleep. He wondered why.

"I suppose," Hermione was suddenly conscious of the bird's nest on her head and her tired appearance. Ron seemed to be staring for an unusually long time. "Oh, I didn't get much sleep," she gestured to her hair, "I'm a wreck."

"No, you look fine. Nice." Ron assured her. "Why'd you get no sleep?"

"Oh, er…Dreams, actually," Hermione admitted. "Peculiar ones."

"I had a strange dream once, I was in the Forbidden Forest and Harry and I came to this nest of these huge spiders, acromantulas, and then they tried to eat us…oh, wait. That was real." Ron grinned sheepishly.

Hermione laughed. Her face fell again as she said, "But these didn't make any sense. They weren't like any other dreams I've had. It first happened that day in History of Magic; I was dreaming I was outside. And then all of a sudden this other dream _interrupted_ it."

Ron's face crinkled in worry. So what if she was impossibly stubborn, **(A/N: Ahem, pot calling the kettle black, anyone?)** Hermione was his friend. He felt helpless, like he had whenever Harry was in trouble, like he couldn't do anything. He wasn't a world–class wizard, or extremely knowledgeable. What could he do? And now Hermione was in trouble. Mind you, a Dark Lord whose name is feared by all wasn't chasing her, but still, this was Hermione. Hermione who _always_ knew what to do. _His _Hermione. He put a long arm around her shoulder in a flustered attempt to comfort her.

"What happened in the dream?" Ron asked. Maybe he could help if he knew.

Hermione sighed and recounted the dream. The musty smell of the shadowed hall came to her. The brush of the tattered rug against her feet felt so real. And the heavy breathing, the _thing_ she knew was there, whose presence hung in the air. The dusty mirror and its great gilded frame, what she almost saw was fresh in her memory. What could she lose by telling him? Nothing. Rather than looking repulsed or incredulous, Ron's face shrank with concern and bafflement. He blinked away the ginger strands in his eyes, and squeezed her shoulder tighter.

ooo

After a quiet breakfast of Ron's arm draped over Hermione's shoulders, the first class of the day was Potions Ron stayed glued to Hermione on the trek down to the ominous dungeons.

Celia **(A/N: You'd forgotten about her, hadn't you?)** snatched Harry's arm the moment Snape said they were going to work in partners. Ron looked at Hermione and she shrugged as they partnered up. They were making the Draught of Everlasting Facial Hair, as Snape was in a humorous mood. The greasy haired man sat back in his chair, grinning to himself and humming "Meet Me Under The Mistletoe" **(A/N: Aah! OOC Snape!)**.

"Sooo… two ounces ground Streeler shell…" Ron began to measure out a multicolored powder, scrunching his nose in concentration. **(A/N: Streeler… check Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them… it's a snaily thing that changes color and stuff…)** Hermione smiled inwardly. She'd missed times like this; Ron could be an annoying part on occasion, but he had his moments. She glanced over at Celia and Harry, who were happily chopping a glittering, knurled looking root. The green–eyed boy didn't seem so reluctant to be torn away from Ron, his usual partner, anymore. It was funny, wasn't it? How whenever Harry fell under her gaze, he turned into mush. She supposed the raven–haired American must be part Vela. She would have to do a background check. _Maybe Ron is right…_ she began to admit grudgingly. She sighed and focused her attention on the potion. Ron's shoulder was brushing against hers as she offered to stir for him. Beginning to blush, although she didn't know why, Hermione reminded him to stir widdershins; Ron simply rolled his eyes.

"Neville! No!" a voice cried out from behind a smoking cauldron.

"What?" Neville's arm had flailed out and promptly knocked over the cauldron. The steaming, neon contents sprayed out, all over Neville. The Gryffindors gasped as the boy slowly began to…. ooze. There was no other way to put it. Neville melted into a smoking pile of goo. Snape swept the Neville–goo into a bucket and ordered Seamus to carry it to the Hospital Wing.

**A/N: **Okay… sorry if that sucked…yay! I got to use the word widdershins. It's my fave. It means counterclockwise. Anyway, there _was_ going to be a new DADA teacher in this chappie. But it came out crappy. :D that rhymed. Well… I promise there will be some Ron and Hermione lurve soon. Sooner if you review…. (hint, hint)… Everything will come together soon. It'll make sense in a bit. So, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I CAN'T WRITE IF YOU DON'T REVIEW! It really makes my day when someone reviews my story. I'm going through tough times, it makes me feel better, and my writing improves too! I will TOTALLY return the favor if you ask too! You review mine…I'll review yours… oh, if any of you like spoofs, there's a funny one on so check it out. Well… I will update ASAP. I'm still waiting for my reviews. So consider this a holiday gift. In return, you can review.

Happy Christmahanuramakkahdanza! My friend J (No, his name is not a curse word. I'm just not revealing it for his privacy) told me that one. Well, how about just Happy Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year (alphabetical order).

Love,

Laurel Kingsley 

P.S. _#guilt–trip# _I have abysmally low self–esteem, by the way…


	7. Écoutez

Disclaimer: I don't own most of it, 'nuff said. A/N: Thanks to the best people ever! A. Lynn the Poet and Marie Fay! 

**A. Lynn the Poet**: Okay… Breathe… No, you have every right to scold me. I was being a bad girl… Ew, Ginny/Snape…. #shudder#… thanks so much for reviewing! You are so sweet! Seriously, you made my day. Hanukkah or Christmas or Winter Solstice Greetings to you. :)

**Marie Fay**:D Yay! I'm glad you liked it! Thanks so much for reviewing! Happy Holidays!

Okay, if I weren't straight, I would be madly in love with these people. Anyway, y'all rock, so this chappie is for you!

Chapter 7: Écoutez 

The hall was empty, save for a dusty chintz armchair, and the 16–year–old girl who sat regally upon it. Long, dark hair fell about her face and her pale blue eyes twinkled as she lifted a cigarette to her lips. She was waiting for something. Her sharp talon–like nails picked distractedly at the chair. The hall had an icy chill to it, although its temperature was normal. The faint sound of wind could be heard, although the air was still. Time passed, nothing came, nothing changed. But the pale girl's waiting was not in vain. A dark figure came, hooded and with movement like a snake. It stood, waiting for her to speak.

"My master, everything is perfect, everything is in place. Soon, he will come, and power will once more rest in your palms." She informed the figure, a glint of excitement in her eye.

"Good, good…" the figure purred, its voice seemed to be male, "How much longer?"

"Give me a…" the girl hesitated, "a month, master."

With a nod, the figure vanished. Slouching back in her chair, the girl sighed from relief and took a long drag from her cigarette. _Soon, _she hissed, _soon_.

ooo

Ron had fallen asleep in a couch in the common room with his arm wrapped around Hermione. His arm slipped down to her waist and she promptly dropped her book. She attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, but to no avail. The sleeping Ron smiled innocently, and Hermione pushed all thoughts of _"Awwww…" _out of her mind. _Well, I might as well settle down, _she thought, making herself comfortable. She wasn't reluctant at all to rest her head on his shoulder. She knew she couldn't let this happen, but the somnolent effect of the dancing flames in the fireplace soon lulled her sleep.

She woke up a while later to darkness and silence. The fire had long been burnt out, and the still sleeping figure of Ron was colder than before. She lay back and gazed at the ceiling, as if searching for an answer. A few bars of light illuminated the room and Hermione sat and relaxed, watching the moonlight dance on the ceiling and glint occasionally on strands of copper hair. Her mind was soon cleared of all thoughts and whenever one wriggled its way in there, her mind was wiped clean, a blank slate. Voices echoed and crescendoed to a normal volume. She then heard something she knew she wasn't supposed to hear:

"Master, everything is in place… power will…rest in your palms…" the voice of a girl faded in and out, almost familiar.

"Good, good," this new voice was that of a man's. Its tone burned her ears and prickled her skin, like an icy wind. It shocked her out of her trance, her umber eyes shining with the glaze of shock. Ron rustled but remained asleep. Hermione distractedly stroked his hair, breathing heavily. What the hell had that been? Whatever it was, it wasn't good. That much she knew. Ron muttered in his sleep something that sounded like Hermione's name, but the girl was too preoccupied to notice. Hermione did what any smart girl would do in her situation **(A/N: No, not snuggle up with Ron and relish the closeness… that's what I would have done…)–**she went to the library.

ooo

Ron awoke to an empty common room. Hazy memories of Hermione drifted through his mind, but he shrugged them off and went to look for her in the library. He had had an odd dream last night and thought she should know. It had been very similar to the one she had had before, except there were two people in the hallway, people he couldn't see or hear.

He found her hidden behind a large tome whose title had faded away.

"Hermione," he whispered softly. She jumped, lowered the book, and shot him an inquisitive look. "Good morning, listen, last night…" This was harder than he thought.

"Last night…? What? There's something I should tell you first," Hermione smiled grimly and didn't continue.

"What do you need to tell me? You go first," Ron prompted, relieved he could avoid talking about his dream for a minute or two.

"No, you should, really."

"Ladies first."

"Exactly, ladies first." Hermione grinned in a very un–Hermione like way.

Ron scowled, "Fine. Well I had this dream last night, kinda like the ones you had. It was weird…" Ron told how he was motionless in a hall, and could see dark figures in the corner of his eye, whispering unintelligibly. Hermione wore a puzzled look on her face.

"That's odd, something strange like that happened to me too."

"Really?"

Hermione recounted her strange trance and the conversation she had overheard.

"You don't think that's a coincidence, do you?" She said afterward. "What I heard, and your dream?"

"No, I suppose not," Ron furrowed his brow. He noticed how close he had gotten to Hermione while she had told him her story. He noticed he liked being this close to her, feeling like this. Much to his surprise, he didn't move away, "But what can we do?"

"I don't know," Hermione said solemnly. **(A/N: No! I was forced to use the dreaded "said." Sorry, I just ruined that moment there.)** The girl's voice had been a little too familiar for her taste, but not familiar enough for her to be concerned. As Harry and Celia walked by, in their own world, the raven–haired girl's croon tickled something in the back of her mind.

_**In the Next Installment of Shade: **He stared at Harry; when had this happened? When had they grown so far apart? He felt so helpless, so cold, so alone. Had all this happened in those few weeks that he had felt his friend slipping away? This was because of her. It was her fault. He knew she was up to something. Whatever it was, she would pay._

**A/N:** Just a tidbit there for you, to lessen the wound of the cliffie type ending of this chapter. Thanks again to my dear reviewers, you made me smile and weep (almost… from happiness). I will try to incorporate that tidbit in the next chapter, as I totally wrote that on the spur of the moment. See, I'm updating! Instead of playing with my Christmas gifts, I finished this chapter. :D I don't mind, I love writing. I will do my best to write a Chapter 8 by the 28th, but I'm sorry if I can't. From the 28th to around the 4th, I am going to San Francisco, thus I won't be able to update. Sorry! I will try to write ahead! I will start on Ch. 8 ASAP. Hopefully I can finish it soon. But don't let that stop you from reviewing. After all, my dad has a laptop, so I'll still check my email. I'll need some inspiration to write on my trip! I will try VERY hard to update SOON. As always, review.

Love,

Laurel Kingsley

P.S. I've always (for about 2 days) wanted to start off a story with the line: "Fate was cruel. Fate was effing cruel, there was no doubt about it." Ya, random tidbit. Wow, I've used the word "tidbit" just now more that I ever have in my entire life. Well, hugs and chocolate to everyone.

P.P.S. Tell me about typos, mistakes, editing things, suggestions. Please.


	8. Flight of the Passing Fancy

**Disclaimer:** Dude, I_ wish _I owned Harry & Co., That would be awesome. But I don't, so I must resort to writing fanfiction. In the words of the album "A Magical Christmas of Magic" (Which my friend got for me! It rocks! Thanks E!): "This recording has not been prepared, approved or licenced by any person or entity that created, published or produced Harry Potter books or related properties."

_**Previously in Shade:** "I don't know," Hermione said solemnlyThe girl's voice had been a little too familiar for her taste, but not familiar enough for her to be concerned. As Harry and Celia walked by, in their own world, the raven–haired girl's croon tickled something in the back of her mind._

_**Coming Soon**: He stared at Harry; when had this happened? When had they grown so far apart? He felt so helpless, so cold, so alone. Had all this happened in those few weeks that he had felt his friend slipping away? This was because of her. It was her fault. He knew she was up to something. Whatever it was, she would pay._

**A.N:** Oh. My. God. You all must HATE me. Go ahead. I deserve it. I am so sorry. When I got back from my trip I had loads of Homework and then it was my birthday and I had to go back to school. And my parents are getting divorced and I don't know what to do and I've only told my best friend. And it's been chaotic. So at least forgive me a little bit. And don't give up on reviewing. If I need anything, its reviews. Some thanks are in order:

**A. Lynn the Poet:** Thanks for all of you reviews! They made my day. No really. I was feeling bummed and then I read your reviews and I had a huge grin on my face for hours afterwards. I promise I will reply to your reviews, kay? Thanks for reading my other stories as well.

**Marie Fay: ** Yay! My first faithful reviewer! Thanks so much! And thanks for the suggestion about the summary. I tried to improve it…but it still kinda sucks… Sorry bout the cliffie… and the long time since I've updated.

**Kitotterkat:** I love your pen name! I don't know why, I just do. Thanks for reviewing! I hope you continue to. :) pwease.

Well Before the chapter I have four things to say:

Anyone who can think of a better/decent/awesome summary for "Shade", PLEASE send it to me.

Everyone should watch "Wonderfalls". It's such an awesome show. Seriously. Just like rent it or something. Also "Dead Like Me".

REVIEW! Even if to tell me that I misspelled "teach" or "with", or to tell me I need to take writing classes. I also like constructive criticism or edits.

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus, "Never Tickle A Sleeping Dragon."

Here We Go:

Chapter Eight: Flight of the Passing Fancy 

Operation NTSB (Nail That Skanky Bch) was in effect early the next morning. Hermione had bewitched Celia's jewelry box to record what was said around it and Ron bribed a first year named Troy Fletcher into following Celia around. Hermione was still unclear as to what he was bribing the kid with, but figured it was better not to ask. Ginny stumbled in on them whispering one day and demanded to know what was up.

"Okay, so she spent seven minutes in the bathroom where that Fletcher midget couldn't follow her…" Ron hushed. One could almost hear the cogs turning.

"Hmm… Do you think you could get a girl for those instances?" Hermione was crouching beside Ron and their ears were nearly brushing. She had never been so conscious of her hearing appendages.

"In what sort of instances would my brother need a girl?" a drawling voice interjected. Ginny Weasley towered over them and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, er, um…I…erm…" Ron fumbled and red crept up his neck.

" You see, Ginny, we have a plan. Ron calls it Operation NTSB." Hermione said curtly. She looked meaningfully at Ron, coaxing him to continue.

"Hermione, are you sure?" Ron spoke through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I think your sister will be quite useful. After all, this is _Harry_ we're talking about." Hermione grinned mischievously.

"Oooh," Ron breathed. They shared a grin.

"Hullo! I'm still here!" Ginny sang in agitation.

The two conspirators told her everything. She insisted on joining in. When she asked if they should tell Harry, they widened their eyes and shook their heads vigorously. They _knew_ he'd take it the wrong way and wouldn't believe them until they had proof.

ooo

Harry lay sprawled in a common room chair. He ran an absent-minded hand through his bird's nest of hair, bringing unpleasant recollections of a certain bigheaded boy before him. Celia sat perched in his lap, like a drop-dead gorgeous bird. _She _is_ birdlike_, Harry mused. The chair wasn't made for two people and creaked under the weight. Definitely an improvement from Cho, she sure wasn't crying. But she was kind of clingy. He hadn't hung out with Ron or Hermione, just them three, for ages. But he'd been watching. He saw the way they were always together, always huddled and whispering. He wondered if it would always be like that, like they knew something he didn't. Soon they'd be snogging in the hallways along with Roger Davies and his flavor of the week. Why didn't he just go over there and whisper with them? _Yeah, I will_, he confirmed, _I'll go over there, and I'll–oh, Ginny_, he suddenly really didn't want to be spontaneous and make a fool of himself with her there. Celia turned her graceful neck and gave him a simpering smile. All of Harry's fretting seemed trivial then. After all, he had her; he didn't need secretive friends and cute girls with carrot hair.

ooo

"Ron, do you ever see the way he looks when she looks at him?" Hermione queried. Her head lay in Ron's lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. After all, they were friends. Friends lean on each other, right?

"Hmm?" Ron twirled a curl around his finger.

"He looks like he hasn't a worry in the world, like as long as she's there, it'll be alright. As if her eyes hold the world. But right before, he looks so troubled, so stuck in chaos, as if there's a war within him." She furrowed her brow.

"But when she looks at him with those eyes…"

"It all goes away! That's it Ron! It's her eyes!" Hermione grinned, ecstatic and buzzing with excitement from her discovery.

"Like Medusa or the basilisk?" Ron raised an eyebrow, incredulous at this whole "eyes" thing.

"I guess. But she controls it. I think." They lay in thought for a while, breathing in the smoky flames and the warmth that emanated from the fireplace.

"I want someone to look at me like that. Like my eyes hold the world," Ron murmured sleepily.

Hermione looked up at him with a drowsy smile, "Someone will," she yawned and closed her eyes. Ron gazed at her as if her smile was life itself.

_**A/N: **Apologies:_

_Sorry for the wait._

_Sorry for the teeny chappie, but I really NEED to do my homework, and I wanted to give you _something.

_Sorry the "**In the Next Installment of Shade**" wasn't in this installment. It will be in the next chapter or so, I promise. If it isn't you can hit me with a Rap CD, kay?_

_Okay, the usual: Review. And so on. C'mon. I'll give you a chocolate, chocolate chip muffin. Yummy._

_**In the Next Installment of Shade: **"Ron! How could you do this!" Hermione couldn't take it. This was so unlike him, so… cruel. She knew something was up, but simply smiled sadly._

_"Me? What about you? If anyone's at fault, it's you!" Ron yelled. He knew he shouldn't, that he should be calm and talk it out with her, but he couldn't. Not when it was all falling apart like this. It was then that he walked away._

_Yo! Any ideas? For what their argument should be about? I am not sure. I can't promise that will be in the next chapter, but I hope it is. I'm sick of Hermione walking away; it's Ron's turn. **Tell Me Your Ideas!**_

_Love,_

_L-to-the-K :)_

_P.S. Tell me if you want to here about the hilarious HP love pentagon my friend E and I made up. Everyone thinks we're weird, but their not obsessed with HP. We think it's v. v. funny._

_**Mischief Managed!**_


	9. They Can't Take That Away From Me

_**Disclaimer**: No, I have not magically become J.K. Rowling since the last time I wrote._

_I am so sorry for the delay. Normally, I'd respond to reviews here, but figure I should get on with the story. Thanks a million to everyone who reviewed! I love you all! Mille grazie! I will respond to your reviews in due time._

_The fight is inspired by Nirvana-KC-LOVER's idea. THANK YOU!_

_**Previously In Shade: **"I want someone to look at me like that. Like my eyes hold the world," Ron murmured sleepily._

Hermione looked up at him with a drowsy smile, "Someone will," she yawned and closed her eyes. Ron gazed at her as if her smile was life itself.

Chapter 9 They Can't Take That Away From Me 

The sun peeked out from behind the curtains of the window in Gryffindor boy's dorm. Harry pried himself out of bed and shook the remnants of drowsiness and dreams out of his head. As he dragged himself down to the common room, the raven-haired teen wondered what the day had in store for him.

He came upon a sight that brought a smile to his young lips. Hermione was curled up against Ron, her head in his lap. Ron had a long arm around her head and was smiling serenely. This stirred something buried in his heart, a sort of envy. He wanted that, that sort of bond. He pushed the funny feeling away and walked down to breakfast, leaving his two friends in their compromising position.

#&#

A pair of soft, slender hands slid over his emerald eyes. "Guess who-o," a honey-sweet voice sang softly, tickling Harry's ear. Harry didn't have to guess. He had heard her heels click when she had walked into the Great Hall.

"Celia," he mumbled through his breakfast.

Her hands drew away and the voice continued, "Why so glum, chum?"

Harry cringed, Celia frowned. She slid into the seat beside him, forcing a disgruntled Seamus to scoot over and a sleepy Dean to glare. Inspecting her glossy fingernails, she sighed and dropped her honey tone and sunny disposition. "Harry," she coaxed.

The weary looking boy started, "It's just…" What was he supposed to say? That _this_ just didn't feel right? He didn't want to hurt her. He looked up and met her eyes. The gleamed back at his, tempting him with their icy depths. Suddenly, "right" didn't matter anymore. "Only your eyes…" he felt himself say breathlessly. Celia smiled, looking flattered, and oddly, proud.

Ron and Hermione walked in and sat down, farther apart than usual. They glared at her and drew Harry's attention away from her. Celia simpered back at them and her mind grumbled, _the only obstacle left is _them_, just them_. All she had to do was tear this little trio apart, limb from limb. _Starting with the mudblood and the traitor._

#&#

Natalie McDonald was dashing through the crowd with increasing difficulty, when something sharp jabbed into her side. A strong arm pulled her into an empty classroom in the corridor. She was met by a pair of twinkling blue eyes.

"I have a favor to ask," a voice purred. The eyes twinkled again.

Natalie nodded vaguely. _Twinkle, twinkle._

#&#

"We should tell him." Ron said suddenly, as he sat with Hermione poring over tomes about hypnosis, eyes, and the color blue in the common room.

"Tell whom what?" Hermione replied, absorbed in an old and dusty book.

"Harry. About… you know…" Ron mumbled.

"No." the bushy-haired girl sated sharply.

"Why?"

"You may have been raised without the movies, but I was."

"Hey," Ron defended, "I went to a film once… 'Bout some bugger and a dog or summat. Rubbish really."

Hermione sighed, "You are hopeless. Do you know what will happen if we tell Harry?"

"Dunno. 'E'll pat us on the back and say, 'Good call, mate, she had me there. I really appreciate it.' You know."

"Wrong! She's got him eating out of the palm of her hand! Do you think she'll just let him get away like that?" Ron opened his mouth to speak. "No, don't answer that. The thing is… He won't believe us. He'll say we're jumping to conclusions. We'll all have a row and he won't listen until it's too late. Friends and love can't mix."

Her words stung Ron's ears. "Well, if that's how you feel. Let's not bother him then." he replied stonily.

"Ron," Hermione said faintly, she had a feeling they weren't talking about Harry anymore.

They sat there in silence until Hermione muttered something about homework or feeding Crookshanks and stumbled off to her dorm.

#&#

Ron was moping in the common room when a small voice spoke in his ear. "Ronald," it whispered. Ron turned his head lazily. A girl a couple years below him was sitting next to him. Her long, chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with quaint strands coming out.

"Erm… who are yo–" Ron began but was interrupted by a very surprising pair of lips. They were pressed against his and begging for more. They belonged to the strange brunette.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw a girl with wily hair. He gurgled and struggled against the young brunette's grip. She kept moving her lips against his. With a final shove, he was free. By then, Hermione was gone.

"Natalie," a huddle of girls giggled and the brunette skipped over to giggle with them, never giving Ron a second glance.

The blue-eyed boy didn't notice. He sat on his chair, distractedly picking at the threads in a pillow. All he saw was a pair of nut-brown eyes and a hurt gaze.

#&#

Hermione groaned into her pillow, tears threatening her eyes. It was one thing to see your best friend being kissed, but when you want to be the one kissing him…and worse, after they had fought! He was supposed to mope until she forgave him, not go off kissing random girls. But the big one, the real stinger, was the letter that lay crumpled on her bed sheets, delivered by a tiny owl two minutes before. She could remember every word.

_  
Hermione–_ See, it even began coldly.

_If you were Harry's true friend, you would want him to know. But, don't worry; no one needs to know about your folly. I have talked to both Celia and Harry, who are, in reality, perfectly fine. I would never have thought _you_ would be the over-dramatic one. Conspiracy theories don't suit you. Fake dreams don't suit me. Yes, the dream wasn't real. This whole shit is fake. _You _are fake._

_Sincerely,_

Ronald Weasley 

Now, Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew Ron didn't mean those things. They still hurt, of course. But this was the cold reality: Ron had been pulled under Celia's Spell. There was nothing she could do. She was all alone.

Ginny lay, forgotten and dreaming, in her dorm.

Ron was brooding in his bed with the curtains pulled tightly closed. That gaze, was so cold. He had brushed the taste of perfume and brown hair out of his mouth immediately and his tongue tingled from brushing for ten minutes straight. He wondered what Hermione was thinking right now. He fell asleep late, with her eyes on his mind.

#&#

Hermione wasn't talking to him again. It was worse this time. Not only was Harry off with Celia, but also the silence was filled with hurt and spite. It burned Ron's ears and left a nasty taste in his mouth.

But no matter, Celia was off their minds. The girl clicked her tongue in satisfaction, swished her sleek, inky hair, and inspected her fingernails again. She had gotten what she wanted. After all, she always did. The scheming teen cackled rather maliciously to herself and smiled, _me: 1, them: 0_.

_**In the Next Installment of Shade: **_

_There is a place in all our hearts,_

_Where darkness dwells._

_When bonds are broken into parts_

_Sound those sweet bells,_

_That bring us news of passing on,_

_And tell us when love comes anon._

_They say that this love can conquer all,_

_Yet no one's prepared to take the fall._

_These things are often true, they say,_

But can't there be another way? 

**A/N: ** Expect the next chappie in a few days.

REMEMBER! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! REVIEW!


	10. No One Ever Said It Was Wrong

_**Disclaimer: **You know, I wish that I had JK's book, I wish that I had JK's book. Where can I find a book like that…_

_Thank you to my faithful reviewers._

_**Previously in Shade: **But no matter, Celia was off their minds. The girl clicked her tongue in satisfaction, swished her sleek, inky hair, and inspected her fingernails again. She had gotten what she wanted. After all, she always did. The scheming teen cackled rather maliciously to herself and smiled, me: 1, them: 0._

**Chapter 10 **(Double Digits, baby!)

No One Ever Said It Was Wrong To Be Trigger-Happy 

She drew him into an empty classroom. He floated along. The moment was pumping in their veins and tickling their breath. They moved with each other, dancing a dance that could only be seen in the movies. Each pair of eyes drank in the other's, drowning in their reverie.

Harry, dazed by Celia's silver gaze, felt himself hush, "I…love…you…" The words felt hollow and empty, yet they still lay there in the air between them, hanging restlessly. They were just _there_. Celia grinned in satisfaction and drew in for more.

After that, things felt different. The air buzzed with an unspoken something. In another stolen moment, Harry had heard himself whisper that he'd follow Celia anywhere. All these words stuck, leaving Harry confused. Why did these truths feel so _false_, yet true? It was if layers of cloth were muffling his brain.

#&#

"Master…" a feminine voice purred, "The time has come…"

"Excellent. You know what to do from here. Do this right and… everything we've ever dreamed of will be achieved…" an icy tone trailed off into darkness.

#&#

Hermione still wasn't speaking to Ron. He began to "accidentally" bump into her in the hallways, to try and talk to her. She simply blew him off. She began hanging out with Neville, using him as protection against Ron, and partnering up with him in class. That left a fuming Ron to partner with Dean, Seamus, Ernie, or whoever was there. After a few endless days of this, Ron gave up. The slouching redhead was no longer vying for forgiveness. Rather, he was just as furious at Hermione as she was with him. What right did she have to blow him off like that? They weren't _dating_. Ron scoffed at the concept. Hermione wasn't a girlfriend, she could never be. She was the girl who stood by your side when you needed help, who stood up for what was right, who always had something to say. She was the friend who is a solid rock in your life that keeps you on your toes, yet, strangely, sane. Hermione was the kind of girl who is never without a helpful hint, keeps you in line, and always surprises you. That was Hermione. The girl he thought about when he drifted off to sleep and woke up in the morning. It was then that Ron realized this couldn't go on.

He cornered her after potions. She grabbed Neville's arm the second she saw Ron and began talking animatedly to a puzzled Neville. Similar sequences occurred throughout that day; each of Ron's attempts to talk to Hermione failed. Then he got an idea…

He wondered if this was the right thing to do. What would Harry say? He shook the threatening doubts out of his mind. He had to do this. Harry would thank him later. With a dramatic swoosh, Ron donned Harry's invisibility cloak and tiptoed down the stairs.

#&#

Harry and Celia were in a very compromising position in an empty classroom on the seventh floor. The classroom was adjacent to a particularly disturbing tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls to dance ballet.

Hermione was in the library, reading an intriguing book on kelpies. She wasn't sure why she was avoiding Ron anymore. She wasn't mad anymore. But if Celia had pulled him in, she didn't know what would happen now. She was avoiding the hurt she would feel when she met this bewitched Ron. She didn't know what she was doing anymore. She just kept on running blindly and boxing the shadows. Hermione slammed the book closed, frowned, and made her way up to the Gryffindor common room.

Ron was creeping around the seventh floor, wishing he had stolen–er, _borrowed_–the Marauder's Map as well as the cloak. How was he supposed to find Hermione now?

Hermione stopped in front of a seemingly bare wall. _The Room of Requirement… _she recalled. Hermione giggled uncharacteristically and supposed she could use a little self-pampering. Focusing hard on her desire, she stepped through the door when it appeared.

"Come with me," Celia coaxed, dragging Harry out of the empty classroom. Harry followed lightly, his head feeling fuzzy and warm. Celia willed the door to the Come and Go Room to appear with perfected skill and turned the handle.

Hermione felt he surroundings melt away. This wasn't supposed to happen. The poof beneath her melted into a pile of miscellaneous objects and her cup of tea became a rusty sequined goblet. A majestic mirror stood out from the entire hodgepodge. She recognized it as the Mirror of Erised from the books she had read and the tales she had been told. But before she could see what her hearts desire was, two bumbling figures stumbled into the Room. Hermione hid behind a pile of gold dishware.

Ron was nearing the Room; nostalgia washed over him at the thought of it. The door was visible and a foot was peeking out from it. He wondered why. _Hermione!_ This was all that ran through his mind before he dashed to catch up. Stumbling through just in time, he came upon a curious sight.

#&#

To the outsider, the scene in the Room was particularly strange. A jumbled room of chaos with four teenagers and a mirror. All eyes were focused on the mirror. It was a tall one, with gold framing and an odd inscription at the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. One of the teens was a rumpled looking girl with bushy brown hair and sharp nut-brown eyes wide with shock. She was hunched behind a tottering pile of dishware, occasionally glancing cautiously at it. There was a pair in the center of the room, right in front of the mirror. Their hands were tangled together. One was a wistful looking boy with scraggly black hair. The other was a composed raven-haired girl with a confident expression. The fourth person in the room was invisible. If this boy had been visible, the outsider would have laughed at his genuinely confounded expression.

It happened in a moment. These things generally do. The problem with moments is they don't give you any time to think. They begin and end just like _that_. In this small moment, Celia stared into the mirror, smiled, Harry opened his mouth to speak, and the two were gone in a slight glint of the mirror and the moving of air. Hermione dashed forward, Ron threw off his cloak and they grasped each other's hands, forgetting feuds, kisses, and silences. In another look at the mirror and a glint, they too were gone.

In that last moment in the Room, the hearts of the two friends were willed with such love and care that the air whispered and smiled. The adrenaline pumping in their veins buzzed in their ears. Their mutual deep desire to save Harry in those last few seconds was so strong, the universe couldn't say no.

_**In the Next Installment of Shade: **_

_When your heart's desire is fulfilled,_

_What is one to do?_

_When are lover's hearts instilled_

_With real vows untrue?_

_More obstacles lie ahead,_

_More dangers unexpected,_

_Then talked over tea and bread._

_Can desires be reflected?_

_**A/N:** My English teacher would kill me for the number of _you_'s in this. Expect the next chapter up a little later. I have two big projects due next week, so writing might take a bit longer. I am expecting to finish this story in a few chapters. I will update ASAP. As always, REVIEW!_


	11. They Can’t Take That Away From Me

_**Disclaimer: **'Nuff said._

All reviewers get a virtual cookie! Can you taste it? Bite into the warm gooey mass, feel the sweet taste tingle your tongue, and stop thinking dirty thoughts. Go ahead, take a few. Whatever flavor you want. But only if you review. Thanks to those who did. Here's a cookie.

_Sorry for the wait. I've had a lot of shit to sort through. This chapter is dedicated to everyone who was pissed at me for not writing. And my ex, I'm sorry. And B, who doesn't read this story anyway because it's not slash tear _

_**Previously In Shade: **In that last moment in the Room, the hearts of the two friends were willed with such love and care that the air whispered and smiled. The adrenaline pumping in their veins buzzed in their ears. Their mutual deep desire to save Harry in those last few seconds was so strong, the universe couldn't say no._

_¡Vamanos!_

**Chapter 11**

They Can't Take That Away From Me 

A tapping noise woke Harry from his stupor. Thoughts and memories came flooding back to him. The intense deluge was overwhelming and he staggered, causing him to gaze at his surroundings.

He slouched in a room shrouded in darkness. The air was chilled and still. He could hear faint whispers of movement somewhere deep within the depths of this hollow of a room. He strained to hear the secrets the darkness told.

"Master…"

"Hermione,"

"He's here. The boy."

"Yes?"

"What's happening, Wha–"

"Hush…"

"Excellent."

Silence

The scarred boy crinkled his brow at the icy breeze of a whisper he had just faintly caught.

"Now is the moment, now is the time, the only time. When the sorry history of those fools who believed shall end, shall vanish into smoke blown away by the wind."

He heard a wheezy sneer and the sound of a smirk.

"Why waist time? For you, my boy, there is no time."

Harry could feel a pair of eyes bore into him. The _crzzzzt _of a match lighting, and a flame was bourn and a lamp was lit, and the room was revealed.

"Celia," He snarled. She smirked. "God damn bloody fucking hell." the golden boy hissed. He looked almost sinister in the haunting light, pitch-dark hair shrouding his face. And his eyes narrowed into slits when he spotted the man with the icy voice. _If you could call him a man, _Harry growled in his fuzzy mind. He didn't notice the room's other two occupants. But Celia did.

"You!" she hissed, sounding eerily like the snakes her master cherished.

"Me?" a shaky voice replied. The sound seemed to be coming from a shock of orange hair.

"Him?" A head of bushy brown locks said in return.

"Eh?" Harry puzzled.

"Silence!" Voldemort scowled. "Now is not the opportunity for interruption. Someone has an appointment with the angel of death I'd hate for them to miss."

"Well, sorry to tell you, but the angel of death is on maternity leave!" Ron growled/shouted as her stumbled towards Voldemort, holding his wand "menacingly." Hermione winced noticeably at the Witty Banter.

Despite his current situation, Harry burst out guffawing. "Wha…. angel…. death…. maternity leave?" He stumbled, and finally just slumped to the floor and hid his head between his legs.

Hermione was grinning uncontrollably, Ron looked putout, Celia looked surly, and Voldemort just looked disturbed.

Voldemort came to his senses and began to reach for his wand, to receive what he had wanted for so long.

Hermione noticed, "Help me distract him," she hushed to Ron. Ron hesitated, Hermione racked her brain, and Ron took the plunge. Suddenly Hermione was pulled into a wildly passionate kiss.

Everyone immediately snapped out of his or her stupor/quiet plotting/huddled laughter.

Tongues tangled, lips bruised, hair stood on end, hands groped, and limbs went limp.

Harry took this opportunity to shout, "What's 23 times 3!"

Celia thought about it, while Voldemort continued to be repulsed by the PDA.

"Erm…. 69?" She finally answered.

By then, Harry had already _expelliarmus_-ed and placed her in a full body bind.

Hermione pulled away from Ron to transfigure a distracted Voldemort into a Deliciously Refreshing Coca-Cola Beverage. She was then pulled back.

Harry picked up the bottle of Voldie-Cola and guzzled it down until all of Voldemort was inside him. "Mmmm… Deliciously Refreshing…" Harry stated heartily.

Ron and Hermione broke apart and stared quizzically at Harry. Hermione smiled and began to brainstorm as to how they could get out of there. Ron flushed. And Harry sighed.

"I always knew he would be defeated by love and an international corporation." He declared dreamily.

**The END… Or is it?**

**Sorry for the crappy ending. Do you want an epilogue? Tell me if you do. Well, sorry once again for being an unfaithful writer. And please review (and tell me if you want an epilogue, I'll write one ASAP if you do).**

_**Love and fluff,**_

_**Laurel Kinglsey**_


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